Seven years ago, Ava Sutton lost her sight saving her future husband, Blake Covington, from an avalanche in Aspen.

Seven years later, Blake had his mistress, Sienna, living under the same roof. Every night, after tucking Ava into bed, he would slip away to the other woman's room. Even their daughter, Maya, secretly called Sienna "Mom."

What they didn't know was that Ava's sight had already returned.

And she was planning her escape, ready to burn it all to the ground.

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1

"Paige, I need you to help me fake my death. A car accident. It has to look like I'm the one who died."

Ava Sutton's voice was a raw, hoarse whisper over the phone.

On the other end, Paige Dawson's frantic voice crackled. "What happened? What did that son of a bitch Blake do to you now?"

Ava lifted her head, her tears having dried the moment she discovered Blake's betrayal. She bathed in the sunlight she hadn't seen in seven years. "I have to leave," she said. "You're the only one I can trust."

Paige didn't hesitate. "My brother's flying to the next city on business in two weeks. I'll have him grab you on his way."

Just then, the bedroom door behind her creaked open. Ava quickly ended the call.

A tall, broad figure approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her.

"Ava, I'm sorry. Something urgent came up at work. I swear I'll make your next checkup," Blake Covington murmured, his voice soft. "So, how did it go? What did Dr. Albright say?"

His question yanked Ava's thoughts back to that morning.

Seven years ago, she had been caught in an avalanche while saving Blake, a disaster that had stolen her sight.

To cure her, Blake had spared no expense, assembling a top-tier private medical team dedicated to researching optic nerve regeneration.

For seven years, she had visited the hospital every week—three hundred and sixty-four times—but a miracle had never come.

She had long since given up, but Blake had knelt before her, begging her to continue. After their daughter was born, he had another reason to persuade her.

"Don't you want to see our daughter with your own eyes? Please, Ava… for me… for her, just keep trying."

Even her daughter's birthday wish every year was for her to see again.

It was her love for Blake and her desperate desire to see her daughter's face that had kept her going.

The day she regained her sight, she had rushed to Blake's company, ecstatic, only to find him pinning a woman against the wall in his office's private lounge. His hands roamed her body, their limbs intertwined.

His heavy panting.

Her delicate moans.

The sounds hit her like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the joy in her heart in a single, brutal instant.

So this was his "emergency meeting."

Clothes were scattered from the doorway to the side of the bed, a trail of their frantic need. Documents were strewn across the floor.

The chaos screamed of their desperation for one another.

The image of them tangled in the lounge was a blade twisting in her gut. In that moment, she almost wished she had never regained her sight.

Her body went numb. She clutched her chest, her heart hammering as if it would burst. Gasping for air, she turned and fled.

She never expected Blake would dare bring his mistress home.

What shocked her even more was that the maids turned a blind eye, their silence a confirmation that this was a regular occurrence.

It meant… this wasn't the first time.

And what finally shattered her was seeing her daughter—her own flesh and blood—winking at that woman, mouthing a silent greeting as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her daughter, the one person she had planned to take with her when she escaped, had known about this woman all along. And she had accepted her.

Everyone knew. Everyone but her.

With the weight of it all crashing down, Ava wrenched herself from Blake's embrace in disgust.

She turned, her eyes catching on the bruises, hickeys, and scratches marring the skin beneath his collar.

All those years in darkness, she had thought his embrace was warm, his shoulders a fortress…

Dirty. It was all so filthy.

Ava shook her head and lied, "No progress."

She had already made up her mind. There was no reason to let Blake know her world was no longer dark.

She would vanish from Blake and Maya's lives completely.

This father and daughter… she was done with them. Both of them.

Blake let out a long sigh, and it was impossible to tell if it was from regret or relief.

"It's okay," he said. "Just remember… even if you can't see for the rest of your life, I'll still love you."

"I'll add another ten million to the medical team's funding tomorrow. Maybe that will speed things up."

He added, "But for now, it's time for dinner. Come on."

He bent down and swept Ava into his arms.

The gesture, once so sweet, now sent a wave of revulsion through her. Her entire body went rigid.

They walked into the manor's dining room.

"I want to sit next to Mom!" Maya called out cheerfully.

But she was standing by another chair, carefully arranging a napkin for Sienna, the mistress.

Given the long dining table's arrangement, with Blake at one end and the woman at the other, it was clear they had no intention of seating Ava next to her.

It was all a carefully staged performance for the blind woman in the room.

The woman, draped in a silk gown, leaned lazily against Blake, looking more like the lady of the house than Ava ever did.

Blake cut Ava's steak and spooned side dishes onto her plate.

Maya poured Ava some juice.

Everything seemed so familiar. But this time, Ava could see. She saw the jealousy smoldering in Sienna's eyes.

The food tasted like ash in her mouth. She stared at the hand Blake used to serve her—the same hand that had caressed another woman that morning.

Her stomach roiled.

Just as she was about to get up, Sienna extended a high-heeled foot under the table and brazenly hooked Blake's calf with the tip of her shoe.

He flinched, trying to pull his leg away. But she wrapped her ankle around his, guiding his movements.

In the end, even after she released him, Blake didn't pull his leg back.

This time, the nausea was an unstoppable tide. Ava braced herself on the table, dry-heaving until the world spun.

Maya ran to get her a napkin.

Blake reached out, wanting to pat her back in comfort.

But the thought of what that hand had done made her slap it away instinctively.

"Dirty," she said coldly.

Blake froze, his expression utterly confused. "What? I was just cutting your steak!"

"What's wrong? Are you okay? I'll take you to the private clinic."

"I'm fine." Ava pushed him away and steadied herself.

She returned to the bedroom and locked herself in the bathroom. Steam filled the air, blurring her reflection in the foggy mirror.

She remembered the words she had overheard outside Blake's office.

"Blake, is it because your wife's blind? Is that why you can't get it up for her? Is that why you take it all out on me?"

"Shut up. Who do you think you are? Know your place."

Blake hadn't denied it.

Ava dragged her hand across the mirror, and her own face stared back, stark and clear.

What had she looked like when she was blind?

Was she so unremarkable… so inferior… that Blake could discard their youthful love, the life she'd saved, their entire marriage, for another woman?

She remembered their wedding night—how he had kissed her eyes over and over, his tears landing on her cheeks.

"Ava, you're finally mine. I love you, and thank you for loving me. I will take care of you for the rest of my life. If I ever break this vow, may God strike me down."

He had taken care of her. That much was true.

He had hired thirty maids, all professionally trained in nursing care. She only had to press a call bell, and someone would appear.

Even though she couldn't see, he still bought her everything—skincare, jewelry, clothes. Whatever other wives had, he made sure she had better, more expensive versions.

Fearing she would be bored, he even assembled an audiobook recording team just for her, to read the latest books and magazines.

Did Blake really not love her anymore?

Ava didn't think so.

She realized he hadn't stopped loving her. He'd simply learned to love someone else at the same time, splitting his heart neatly in two: one half for his wife, the other for his mistress.

When Ava came out of the bathroom, Blake was waiting on the sofa.

He stood, pulled her into his arms, tucked her into bed, and held her tight.

"Ava, what's wrong today? Did something happen at the hospital? If anything is upsetting you, you have to tell me. I'll always be here for you."

Fearing he might call Dr. Albright, Ava answered vaguely, "It's nothing. I probably just didn't sleep well."

Just then, his phone lit up.

He made no attempt to hide it, tapping the screen right in front of her. A photo popped up—sent by someone named Sienna. The woman in the picture wore a sexy bikini, standing by a pool with a hazy gaze and slightly parted lips.

Sienna: [Darling, I'm waiting for you by the pool.]

Blake's breath hitched, and the corners of his mouth lifted involuntarily.

Blake: [I'll be down as soon as Ava's asleep.]

Sienna: [Come now! She's blind; she can't even get down the stairs without help. I miss you.]

Blake locked the screen and pressed a kiss to Ava's forehead.

"Something came up at the office," he whispered. "I'm going to the study for a bit. Don't wait up."

Then he left in a hurry.

Ava lay quietly, staring at the stark white ceiling.

Perhaps, deep down, Blake had long accepted that her eyes would never heal. That was why he no longer bothered to hide anything, why he dared to be so brazen, so shameless.

She sat up and silently made her way downstairs.

The living room was empty. From Sienna's guest room came the soft sounds of a man and woman laughing.

"Sienna, are you crazy? Ava isn't even asleep yet, and you're already trying to seduce me?"

"But you still came."

The door was ajar. Through the crack, Ava saw them tangled together in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. The room was decorated in soft pink tones, stylish and lived-in. He must have been setting this room up for her for at least a year.

So, this happy little family she thought she had…

There had always been a fourth person.

Blake had housed his wife and mistress under one roof. The first half of the night belonged to Ava, and in the second, he would sneak downstairs—to his "real" home? To Sienna?

It must have been thrilling.

Ava covered her mouth, suppressing a scream that clawed at her throat. She spun around and bumped right into the night-shift maid.

"Mrs. Sutton? Why are you downstairs?"

Before she could answer, the bedroom door flew open. Blake stumbled out, shirt half-open, hair disheveled, panic etched on his face.

Sienna followed, her arms wrapped around his waist, hands roaming freely over his body.

Blake pushed her back into the room and hurried over.

"Ava, did you… did you hear anything just now?"

Ava clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. The sharp pain was the only thing stopping her from slapping him.

"No," she said calmly. "I was thirsty and came down for some water."

Blake was visibly relieved. "I left a glass of water for you on the nightstand. Why did you come down by yourself? It's too dangerous."

He fussed over her, helping her back to the bedroom as if nothing had happened.

After a while, he called out softly, "Ava?"

She didn't respond.

Thinking she was asleep, he stood up.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open again.

His voice was hushed, but she still heard him.

"What are you doing up here? Go back downstairs."

Then came Sienna's coquettish reply, "You left me hanging earlier… so I had to come find you, darling."

A pause, then the rustle of clothing, followed by Blake's low, strained voice.

"Get in the dressing room."

"No," she said. "Right here. She's blind; she can't see a thing. Isn't this more exciting?"

The only response was his heavy, ragged breathing.

In the darkness, two bodies stumbled into her dressing room, limbs already tangled as they fell against the wall.

Ava lay quietly, her eyes wide open. Tears slid silently down her temples as she bit her lip to stifle a sob.

In the silent darkness of the night, she saw everything.

Before pulling the covers over her head, her gaze fell on the glass of water Blake had left on her nightstand.

The water was ice-cold, a chilling match for the numbness that had claimed her heart.

In the crushing silence, she made a vow. Blake, she thought, her promise a shard of ice in the dark. I will make your life a living hell.